


Queen of the Roller Derby

by waywardrose



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Anachronistic, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Roller Derby, Vague injury description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose/pseuds/waywardrose
Summary: He couldn’t believe… Well, a lot of things. First, that he’d been invited. Second, that he was looking forward to the bout. Third, that he was anxious for your well-being.





	Queen of the Roller Derby

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: for the prompts, could you do L from the fluff alphabet with flip? ❤️ love your writing so much !!
> 
> And I love you, sweet nonny, for giving me this prompt. Thank you!
> 
> Prompt from the [Fluff Alphabet](https://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com/post/186447745297/fluff-alphabet)
> 
> **Love Confession** \- _How would they confess to their s/o?_

Flip bought a hot dog, nachos, and a Pepsi from the concession. That should hold him until he could get home to have a real dinner. He steadied the cardboard tray as he made his way back to his seat in the middle of the stands, T. Rex thumping through the PA system. The crowd wasn’t huge. Only the lower six or so rows on either side of the rink were occupied.

He couldn’t believe… Well, a lot of things. First, that he’d been invited. Second, that he was looking forward to the bout. Third, that he was anxious for your well-being.

On the fifth date, you’d shown up at the pizza parlor with a white wrist brace on. He’d been instantly concerned. Had you been in an accident? Had some asshole attacked you? Did he need to kick their ass?

You’d laughed. It was melodic and bright, and he adored it. “Nah! I took a tumble during practice.”

“Practice?” he’d asked.

Your head dipped, and you combed your hair back behind an ear with your non-injured hand. “I’m part of a roller derby team.”

“I didn’t know Colorado Springs had one of those.”

“Well, uh, it does. Pikes Peak Derby Dames.”

Before he could ask more questions, the waitress came around to get the order. You both agreed on a Leave It To Beefer pizza and pitcher of beer. After she left, he told you to tell him all about roller derby.

You glowed as you explained the rules, the strategy, and the lingo. Your enthusiasm was infectious. You told funny stories about your teammates. You had him throwing his head back with laughter as you finished the team-joke about fake farts.

He’d thought he understood women, but apparently, he didn’t know jack or shit. You were secretly bawdy and snarky. You were proud of the bruises and abrasions you’d earn during derby bouts. You sometimes snorted when you laughed. You were a smart-ass. Like a disguise, you wore prim cardigans sets and conservative kitten heels at work. At first glance, you two seemed to be a mismatch. But oh, everyone was wrong.

You were fucking perfection.

He finished the hot dog before the announcer came to the middle of the rink. Everyone cheered for both teams. The bout was between the Dames and the SoCo Derby Dollz. There were a few fans who had signs and they hoisted them high as the skaters rolled onto the rink.

Flip almost didn’t recognize you as you joined your teammates, waving to the crowd as you did. Your derby name was Mazel Tov Cocktail, firstly. Which was delightful. You had on cut-off jean shorts, pink fishnet hose, and knee-high athletic socks. You’d cut the sleeves off your black-and-green team jersey and under it you wore a pink tank top. Your hair was pinned back, your mouthguard in place, and your makeup was minimal. Your high-top skates were worn-in and only laced past the ankle. The laces were wrapped around the boot and tied in a secure bow. Your joint pads and helmet cover matched your team’s, too, so it was easy to discern the players—even at a distance.

The first jam started, and you were in the big group of women. There was a stripe on your helmet cover, which if memory served, designated you as a Pivot. The crowd went wild as the players began hip-checking and blocking while going at breakneck speed. He watched you sweep around the rink, hugging the inner boundary line like a pro.

You were intimidating and aggressive. You snarled at the Dollz’s skaters and knocked them off the track without hesitation. Your strong—and shapely, he noted—legs pumped you faster and helped you juke. You whipped the Dames’ Jammer—the main scorer—ahead and assisted in netting the first points of the night.

He was in awe. You were incredible. You were sexy as hell.

The match went on like that. Some jams you skated, others you didn’t. In one of the last jams, you were passed the star, making you a Jammer. The Dollz in the rink gunned for you. The tension rose as two of the Dames’ Blockers were knocked off the track.

He shot to his feet and yelled for you to _go go **go.**_

A Dollz caught up to you and tried to jab at your calf—a move deserving of a penalty. The refs didn’t catch it, though. The skaters were clumped too tightly together. It hardly mattered because you leapt into the air, avoiding the offending, jabbing boot.

He pumped his fist. “That’s my girl!”

You landed with a resounding clack and kept fucking skating. _Holy shit._ You broke away from the pack and led the way to scoring the Dames another few points, ending that jam.

The crowd roared, and he barely recognized he’d joined them.

You found him in the crowd as you returned to the bench. You waved at him, looking happy with your face shiny with sweat. He proudly pointed at you before giving a thumbs-up. You laughed and threw him a kiss.

The bout ended in excitement, the Dames winning 134 to 129. The Dames flooded their side of the rink circling the five skaters who’d won the final jam. The Dollz rolled over and congratulated the Dames. He could see some high-fives and compliments being exchanged.

Flip slipped on his jacket and rushed down to the floor. You broke away from the skaters with a huge smile just for him. He opened his arms and caught you as you launched yourself at him. You shrieked as he lifted you off the floor to spin you around.

“You were great, baby,” he said as he slowed and let you slide down his front.

_Fuck_ , you looked so good. Your hair was messy from the helmet. You were happy. And free. And everything he loved.

You leaned against him, hands on his biceps, and beamed. “It wasn’t just me.”

“I only saw you.”

Your eyes darkened, and you grabbed the nape of his neck, pulling him into a fiery kiss. He put his hands on your waist to keep himself from clutching at your delectable ass in front of all and sundry. It hardly mattered, though, because you kissed him deeply—with tongue and teeth and hot lips.

You pulled away to whisper, “Hang back for a few and meet me in the visitor’s locker room.”

He nodded with an _“okay”_ and let you go. You rolled back to your team, and then as one, both teams left the rink. He meandered to the men’s john and used the facilities. As he was washing his hands, it hit him how wonderful he felt when he was with you. He realized this— _you_ —might be it for him.

Flip casually strolled to the locker-room hallway, a group of Dollz passing him on the way. The hallway was empty, but he hurried to the visitor’s room just the same. He knocked on the door and received no reply. He ducked in, looking around and finding it deserted.

He was checking the surprisingly clean toilet stalls when the main door creaked open. He peeked around the tiled partition to watch you roll into the room. You whispered his name as you came to the center of the room. You spun around, caught sight of him, and startled yourself.

“Dammit, Zimmerman, you scared me.”

He grinned as he stepped forward. “Sorry.”

You harrumphed with a smirk and a roll of your eyes as you wheeled closer. He thought you were going to stop just in front of him, but you didn’t. You pressed yourself against him, hugging him close and making him lean hard against the wall.

“Thank you for coming,” you murmured.

He put his arms around you and kissed your sweat-damp hair. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Thanks for not being a dick about me playing a sport.”

He softly asked you to look at him, and when you did, he said, “You were great out there. I’m…” He shook his head and hoped this didn’t sound condescending. “Really proud of you.”

Your eyes teared up, and he replayed the last few seconds to make sure he hadn’t fucked it all up. You suddenly let out a little laugh and moved up to kiss him. Okay, he thought, he _hadn’t_ fucked up.

You practically mashed yourself against him. Your fingers went into his hair and pulled at it to tilt his head. He couldn’t stop his groan. Because, oh shit, your body was rubbing against him as you licked into his mouth. For a second, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. And then got it under control. He finally put his hands on your firm ass and squeezed.

You whimpered all kittenish and arched your back. Your bound breasts were tight to his chest. He wanted to peel you out of your layers and just— Fuck. _…Yeah._ He wanted to kiss you everywhere, eat you out until you came all over his tongue, his lips, his chin, the bed. He was desperate to drive his cock deep inside you and give you pleasure.

He found the button of your jeans between your bodies and popped it free.

You pulled back to slur, “Wha—?”

“Let me touch you, baby. Let me give you something good.” He ducked down to kiss just under your jaw. “You— You’re so good.”

“I’m all sweaty…”

“So? You’re all dirty. What’s a little more?”

You cursed, gripping his hair for a moment before nodding. He kissed you one more time and then urged you to turn around. He spread his feet and leaned against the cool tile. You backed your ass right to his groin. He gripped your hips and ground his half-hard dick in the valley between your cheeks. He could feel the heat of your body despite the layers.

You whined, “Flip…”

That made him go a little crazy. He fisted your jersey to yank you flush on him. He urged your hands up behind his neck, cupped your breasts, and kissed your neck. You tasted like clean salt and soap. He had the thought of showering with you, rubbing suds all over your naked, wet body.

_Jesus Christ._ If he didn’t get his head in the game, he was going to come from his own fantasies.

He slid his hands down your curved torso to the fly of your little shorts. He tugged the zipper tab down and pulled the flaps open. He snaked an arm around your waist and creeped his free hand under the band of your fishnets.

“Are you wet, babygirl?”

You wiggled in his hold and whispered, “Yes.”

“You feel how hard I am for you?”

You mewled _“yes”_ again and writhed, rubbing right over his cock. He didn’t know how you were keeping steady with wheels under you, but he was impressed. And turned on. He dragged his teeth against your neck and left open-mouthed kisses in their wake.

“Please, Flip.” You sounded breathless and full of yearning.

He would never deny you. He slipped his hand inside your underwear. Your skin was like silk, so tender and fine. He combed his fingers through your bush down to your wet slit. You let out a soft sigh in relief.

His ears were buzzing, and he thought the top of his head was going to pop off. He eased his middle finger between your slick folds and traced gentle lines up and down your pussy. He teased at your opening before moving up to find the bud of your clit. He knew he found it perfectly when you stiffened in his arms.

“Riiiiight there,” he commented, a pleased smile on his lips.

You nodded. “Uh-huh. There.”

He rolled the pad of his finger over your clit. “Love making you feel good.”

“Love when you do.”

He kept going, circling and stroking your clit. “Oh yeah? What else you love?” He knew he found the right rhythm when you dug your nails into his neck.

“Your—” You panted. “Kisses,” you whisper. “The way you hold me— _Oh shit_ , don’t stop.”

“I won’t, baby.”

He tightened his hold and worked his ring finger in next to his middle. He knew he was giving you direct, unrelenting contact now. You gasped and stiffened in his arms. He rested his cheek on the side of your head and tried to look down your body. All he could see was the swell of your heaving breasts under your shirt.

“You know what else I love?” he asked.

“Wh-what?”

_“You,”_ he murmured. “I love you.”

You sobbed and let your head fall back on his shoulder. “I love you, too!”

He pressed harder, needing you to come now. You clawed at him and squirmed and tried to spread your knees, but he held you fast. He encouraged you to come.

There was a breathless, silent second before you did.

“Love you, I do,” you brokenly grit out. “I do, I love— _oh fuck, I do!”_

His cock pulsed as he returned your love, and his balls drew up as he felt the contractions of your orgasm. If you kept talking like that, he probably would mess his shorts like a kid. Luckily, you didn’t. But he needed to get you home. He really, really needed to get you home. He had condoms there. He could lay you across his bed and take you how he wanted.

After you calmed, he offered, “Come back to my place.”

You huffed out a giggle. “That’s what I was gonna ask you.”

“Up to you, baby, I don’t care where we go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I read this prompt and immediately recalled Leon Russell’s “Queen of the Roller Derby” and Jim Croce’s “Roller Derby Queen”. So if you’re wondering how I arrived at this premise, there you go. 😅
> 
> You can yell at me about Flip Zimmerman on [my tumblr](https://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com).


End file.
